Drastic Lengths
by Threaded Needles
Summary: Elsa enters a loveless marriage early in life. To accommodate the feeling of worthlessness and depression, she decides to have a child, until she feels the haunting rush of affection from a visiting Admiral, which makes her throw caution to the wind and risk everything to stay with him. Elsa/Hans, don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

From what she understands, between the hushed snippets of words and sentences, the marriage was arranged to favor some spoiled king who wanted to take Arendelle as his own. The only other option that would have been available would be to go to war, and with her own ever increasing anxiety and the lack military personnel at her kingdom's reach left them with only one other option.

She was getting married.

In hindsight, it wasn't terrible. The man was too much older than her, though old enough that her mother's face fell in a sad line whenever someone mentioned the man. He was slightly taller than her and a bit fat, and the first day she ever saw him was on the wedding day, when his shirt front strained to stay buttoned and she walked in the chapel wearing a dress that overflowed with embellishments and fabric. And gloves, of course.

The gloves are still a key player in her life, no matter how much Jon - the husband - wants them to disappear. He tried to rip them off her hands once, during dinner when she's politely avoiding the finger foods native to his kingdom and he reaches over to tug them off, resulting in her screeching in such a high pitched voice she almost passed out.

More often than not, he goes to bed without her. She takes her studies and duties seriously, staying up late into the night to pour over texts and write in ink. It bugs him, she thinks, because one day when she's reading through mathematics she hears thumps and moans coming from their chamber's, and the next morning he introduces a curvy whore named Sylvia.

Though he hates him, she feels the sting of rejection and betrayl even so. She opts to taking longer hours reading in the library, or working on mind numbing puzzles until she falls asleep stiffly in a chair and a maid comes to wake her up and escort her to a room she specifically set aside for herself. Then, she waits patiently for them to undress her and tug a night dress over her so she can collapse tiredly into the sheets and blankets.

Anna notices a decrease in her appetite, watching her push around the buttered vegetables on her plate. Jon responds to this by asking her how she's planning on producing heirs if she refuses to take care of her body. She stands to excuse herself from the table and then have Kai bring her up all the fattening foods she wants to her room.

From that point on, she takes her three meals a day in her study. Anna joins her occasionally for breakfast while Jon and Sylvia laugh throughout the course.

…

After her parents die and she's crowned Queen, she attends meeting three times a week with a council. Jon can't (or won't) be bothered with them, so she goes by herself most days while he fucks his mistress.

The topic for opening trade with the Southern Isles, which she signs rather quickly when an old man says they would provide cocoa and coffee beans, takes a turn to personal matters once they have her signature splattered on the page. The thought of them taking her ice while she rolls in her chocolate and oranges disappates quickly.

"Queen Elsa, when are you and your husband planning on producing heirs? It's been nearly five years since your marriage."

Someone whispers that she might be infertile, but she knows the real truth is that her and Jon have had intercourse an entire two times - the consummation and a night he took advantage of her when she was blubbering over red wine. She has no desire to let the man touch her, now or ever, but the topic makes her swallow uncomfortably.

"I don't… know. I guess we haven't really been… actively trying." Her cheeks burn and she looks down at her gloved hands.

"Don't you think it's about time you started?" One advised. "Before you know it, you'll be out of time."

She sighs and looks up at the men who are staring, expectantly. "We'll work on it," She agrees, after a long pause. She stands to leave. "Please contact the Southern Isles to have them send their first shipment, in exchange for the ice and salt."

"Yes, of course, your majesty."

…

The letter was sent out the following day, sealed in wax and stamped with the Arendellian royal seal. During the entire exchange, Jon is not bothered to ask questions of any kind until she steps downstairs to share dinner for the first time in years. She can only assume he is requesting her company because Sylvia fell ill.

The dinner affair is rather quiet. She has nothing to say, and after explaining the new trade agreement with the Southern Isles - "They'll be providing lemons, oranges, coffee and cocoa beans in exchange for ice and salt" - she falls silent and simply picks apart her chicken and green beans.

"What do they want with ice?" He finally asks. She swallows the part of a biscuit in her mouth so fast it hurts, and immediately raises her wine to her lips.

"Their climate is too warm, I suppose and they're having trouble keeping goods cold and preserved. Naturally we'd be the best choice to trade with, since we produce so much ice."

"But what about the summer months?"

She sighed. "The lakes up in the mountains still freeze over."

The table fell silent again, her picking at her food and him refusing to look at her while he ate more than his share.

"I want a baby," She blurted out. Technically, the council wanted her to have a baby, and while the idea of them being intimate was rather disgusting, the thought of having a child of her own had intrigued her and by the next morning she had come to the realization that she wanted a child of her own. One to raise and spoil and love.

If she could have nothing else, she wanted that at least.

"A…. child?" He asked, clearing his throat. He reached for his wine and drank about a fifth of it in a gulp. "Isn't this rather sudden?"

She felt her heart sink at the words. "I didn't think so. The council wants a heir, and I want a child. Seems rather reasonable, I would say."

"But they're so much work. Wouldn't you rather adopt one of those grubby town kids that's already trained and such?" He asked.

Tears stung her eyes, and she pulled the napkin off her lap and threw it on the table. "Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Elsa wasn't one to not get her way. She wasn't about to give up - that was exactly what Jon wanted her to do. So, instead she devised a plan to get her child.

She asked, with a severe blush in her face, for a seamstress to make her a very, very short, sheer dress and waited patiently for the woman to take measurements of her waist, hips, and bust. What the woman mananged to make was beyond what the young queen had had in her mind. The chest cut low and plunged between her breasts, which were held up in soft, pink material. At the bottom of that, almost like a curtain had been attached to hang down around her and ended mid thigh, and a pair of her underwear had been carefully cut apart so it only covered her most private areas.

It was provactive, but that was the point. The point was for him to want to touch and fuck her, to let her have a child. She wasn't sure when would be a good chance to get all done up in it, but one day Sylvia is called to a neighboring kingdom where her family lived - her father had died. She gets up far earlier than him, dresses up and stares at herself in the mirror, so desperate and frantic, and then begins to braid her hair and pin it up.

She enters the bedroom where he was sleeping and walks in as quietly as possible, blowing out the burning candles, and letting the door close softly behind her. She padded over to the bed, bare feet light on the cold floors as she moved gracefully up to her husband. He was fast asleep, turned into his pillow and on his side while he drooled.

_He's so pathetic, God. _

She brushed the thought aside and began to pull back the blankets that kept her from him. "Jon, honey, it's time to wake up. I need you." She plopped herself on top of him, earning a groan of _fuck off_ and began to get comfortable, laying on top of him. "I need your attention today, I've gone too long without it."

Her husband finally moves the pillow, surprised to see her smiling on top of him, her long hair braid and pulled back, and most of her body naked or barely covered.

"Wow, Elsa, you look-"

"Different?" She asked, giving a small smile and kissing his forehead. "I know." She shifted so she was sitting up on his groin and shifted slightly, the bulge in his pants rather uncomfortable and foreign between her legs, even clothed. She didn't even feel the slightest warm to the thought of sex, but rather stiff, cold and afraid. But, at the same time, she really wanted her child, a giggling baby who would love her as much as she wanted to be loved.

Swiftly, with a fake smile, she moves just a tiny bit to work on his drawers. She worked with the buttons, quickly getting the first few undone and then beginning to pull them down, her hands shaking and skin clammy.

"King Jon! Queen Elsa!" A man shouts, a loud knock on the door sending fear shooting through every inch or her body, and she yanks herself away from her husband, like she had been burned or her mother had just walked in on her doing something so scandalous as this.

"_Coming_!" She shouted, unhooking her legs from around him and grabbing for the door. She tripped on the bedding, but managed to open it on the second try, the door swinging open for her. The guard looked befuddled at her appearance, but quickly recovered and didn't let his eyesight drop below her eyesight. "What's wrong?"

"A ship hit an iceberg, about forty meters out of the docks, I gander."

She bit her lip, looking back into the bedroom where Jon was peacefully snoring again. "Alright, take me out there, I'll see what we can do."

"Are you certain you do not wish to-" The guard cleared his throat and then looked down. "_Ah_, nevermind. Come along, your highness, to the docks."

Outside it was pathetically cold. The sun had barely risen and was messy as it tried to rise above the horizon. Wind howled as she ran across to the docks, most definitely, it was going to rain later. She stepped out onto the docks, and immediately regretted not changing. She sought out a captain and ran up to him, trying to tug down her skirt. "Give me a time slot."

"Yes, your majesty," He replied, giving a quick bow. "At roughly five this morning, the Southern Isles shipment arrived, escorted by Admiral Westergard. They have not left yet, still unloading. At six, a small passenger ship attempted to set out, however with the winds, they sailed straight into a iceberg."

"Have any people been recovered?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Three men and two women were able to swim back, however, judging by the log, there is at least seven other people aboard." He replied. At that moment, there was a splash and a man helped a sopping wet woman up and two men who were gasping for air and spitting out sea water. "Four more now, I guess," The captain corrected.

"Well, send out a small rescue boat-" She stopped when she heard a loud splash and the man who had been helping people out of the sea jump in and begin swimming out towards the sinking passenger boat.

"Is he _fucking_ insane?" One of the sailors yelled. "Who the fuck does he think he is? He's gonna get himself killed!"

They watched the lithe man swim out, and she had to admit he did it rather rapidly despite being bogged down with his amount of clothing. He had only stripped off his heavy wool jacket before jumping in, and it was pooled underneath her feet while she stood at the end of the dock watching him. After what seemed like forever, he was swimming back towards them, bobbing to keep afloat as he carried the weight of two other people. When he arrived, he threw the first up and had someone help the other up. He locked eyesight with her for a second, bright green eyes, before he took a breath and dived back under.

"Who the fuck is that guy?" Someone asked again. People were gathering now, whispering about the brave hero, the boat, and the Queen dressed like a woman from the whorehouse.

The man came back this time, breathing heavy as he pulled another person up to them. "I'm going out for the last person-"

"You're not going to be much use, all tired like that," The captain explained, frowning. "Hell, you won't be any use. You'll drown both of you."

"I can't just leave them there," He argued.

"You're going to have to." Someone else said, and then grabbed his hand to pull him up. Wet boots squeaked and squelched as he stood, soaked to the bone as he stood and shivered.

"There's only so much you can do, _Westergard._"

He frowned and began to take off his wet clothing, ignoring the men who were offering up advice to him. He pulled off his boots and then began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the docks, and pulling off his undershirt. Someone cleared their throat before he began to unbutton his trousers, however. "What?"

"You are in the presence of the Queen, Admiral," The captain said, gesturing to her. She tried to shrink away, however, since she wasn't exactly dressed like one. She folded her arms over her cold chest, however, and turned to address him, but not before he dropped the dry wool coat over her shoulders.

"You looked a little cold," He said, going back to his work. He picked the top shirt up and began to wring it out, cold water splashing onto his feet. If he did mind, he ignored it and continued to do so.

She cleared her throat, tugging the coat on closer to her to close it. It was heavy, and she smiled a little. "Ahem, Admiral Westergard, on grounds of serving the Arendelle family, you are invited to spend the night in the castle for dinner and the night, on behalf of your brave actions."

He wrung out the shirt the rest of the way. "If you insist." He gave her a sly smile, and threw the shirts over his shoulder and picked up his boots.


	3. Chapter 3

"Lunch is at noon," She said, as they walked along the halls of the castle. He stopped consistently to examine painting, sculptures or just plain architecture. She liked that he seemed to appreciate the art around him.

"I'll make sure to be on time. I'm sure it would be a lot better than food on a ship." He let his gaze fall on a picture of her family when she was younger, herself standing slightly to the side and eyes cast down while her parents and sister seemed happily wrapped around each other. "Not that it's hard to beat."

She gave a small smile, continuing the tour around. "The library is to the left, if you wish to make use of it." She let a hand wave in the direction while her accompace examined a bust. "Tea and biscuits are served at three."

"Like in England?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. His fingertips skimmed down the length of her arm as he caught up to her.

Her cheeks tinted pink at the slight contact, even through his heavy wool jacket. She remembered, with a frown, that she was standing half naked in front of a man she didn't know, the only thing keeping her from being fully exposed was his coat. She shrugged and tugged the jacket closed even further. "Yes, something like that. Anna had a suitor a while ago from England, and we adapted to the tea time for him. When he left, Anna wanted to keep it. I think she took a liking to the tea."

"And Anna is your sister, correct?" He asked.

"Yes," She replied, pausing a second and smiling.

He lifted up a portrait of her and Jon, flipping it over in his hands. "And this is your husband?"

"King Jon," She agreed. She took it from his hands and put it back where it belonged. "I would appreciate it if you stopped touching everything."

"My apologies."

She showed him to the dining room, her study and the second, smaller library. When she was finished giving him the short tour, she showed him up to his room which was on the second floor, away from everyone else. "Dinner is at seven, try not to be late."

"I won't," He promised. His fingers skipped over the oak wood of the drawers and opened a few. "Where could I take a bath?"

"There's a room adjoining yours." She pointed towards an open room. "I'll send someone up to help-"

"That's quite alright, I'm sure I can handle it." He set his wet shirt and boots aside, starting to unbuckle his trousers. "But thank you."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name..."

He smiled and gave a short bow. "Admiral Hans Westergård, your majesty."

"Queen Elsa," She returned. "Thank you, come down whenever you are ready." She stripped off his jacket and laid it down on the bed.

* * *

She changed into regular clothes, a nice purple dress, a jacket and a pair of white gloves. A maid did her hair into a long french braid and let it hang down against her back while she worked. Kai brought up a sandwich, an apple, and a glass full of water at noon precisely.

"Anna seems to have taken a liking to your guest."

"Oh?" She asked, pausing the movement of her pen. She looked up, wiping her ink-stained hand on a cloth before picking up her apple.

"They seem to share a similiar appetite," Kai explains. "They especially requested this for lunch."

She cradled the apple in her right hand, took a bite, and picked up the pen again. "Very well, you're dismissed."

He didn't move. "Your majesty, if I may... I think perhaps you should try coming down for dinner this evening. It would make a polite impression on guests."

Setting aside the apple she looked to him. "Will Anna be there?"

"She should be."

"Very well, come get me when it's time." She busied herself with her work again, Kai leaving her alone finally.

* * *

She finished most of her work by tea time, and spent the time before dinner drawing mindlessly on pieces of paper. She sketched a picture of her half eaten apple, oxygenating in the sun. With a sigh she erased half of it, unable to get how she wanted it.

"Knock knock!" Anna called, pushing open the door to the study. "I've been trying to find you all day."

"I'm always in here," Elsa replied. She sat aside the drawing, shuffling it under more of her papers to make it look like she had actually been busy.

"Besides I heard you were with the Admiral."

"Hans," Anna corrected, with a chuckle. She patted the side of her hair awkwardly and then sat down, wringing her hands together. "And yes, we had lunch together. He's rather nice, but I think I still like Benjamin better."

"I didn't think Hans was a suitor in the running. Especially since he's a poor man."

Anna sighed. "Yeah, but look at where that got you. I just want to make sure I'm making a good decision before I accept Benjamin's proposal. What if we get married and I find someone whom I like more?"

Elsa smiled and began to pull apart her braid. "Well, Anna, I think that you need to make the correct decision for yourself. However, it seems that you rather like Ben, being as the first thing you thought about when I mentioned Admiral Westergård, you immediately thought about Ben."

"That's true..." Anna sighed and adjusted the sleeves on her shoulders. "Maybe I will accept his proposal. Thanks Elsa."

She gave a small smile, while Anna wrapped her arms around her and gave her a squeeze. She then started to leave, but turned around when she reached the door. "You should come down for dinner, I think you would like Hans."


	4. Chapter 4

At promptly seven, Kai knocked on her door. "Dinner is being ready to be served, your majesty. Do you wish to change before heading down?"

Elsa frowned and shook her head. "No, that's quite alright. I won't be down long."

"Very well, if you are certain." Kai helped her stand, and held out for her to get wrapped in the jacket she had discarded to work easier. "Everyone else is already seated, come along."

Downstairs, as he had said, everyone was seated. Jon sat at the head of the table, with a seat open next to him for her, and across from her would sit Silvia. To her right was the admiral and across from him, Anna sat, twirling a spoon between her fingers and breathing on another to get it to stick to her nose and make him laugh.

She sat down, and folded her hands in her lap, avoiding eye contact with the table. She didn't want to look at Jon, in case he tried to bring up the morning excursion.

Admiral Westergård was the first to clear his throat. "It's lovely to be here. Thank you."

No one replies. Anna has gone to tapping her fork against her glass, so every other second is a slight ting. Jon sips wine, and Silvia plays with her hair stupidly.

"We should be thanking you," She finally says, to fill the quiet air. She sighs in relief when food is brought out to the table. Salad in a large dish with carrots, hardened bread, spinach and peas sits in the middle, drizzled in vinegar, chicken stuffed with oranges and pasta cooked in honey and broccoli are sat beside it. One of the servants fills glasses with red wine and she takes no time to bring it to her mouth and swallow about half of it.

Jon reaches across the table to take some of the pasta, but she stops him. Another servant adds potatoes in olive oil and herbs to the table. "We need to pray first."

"Pray?" Jon repeated. "Do we usually pray?"

"I'm not usually down here, and I pray on my own. And if Admiral Westergård finds no objections, I think we should."

With the tension between her and Jon, he looked a little awkward. He scratched the back of his neck before replying. "Uhm, yeah, I'm fine with that."

"Well, I don't want to. It's a stupid idea, Elsa. Thank you, God for giving us this food - who the hell actually put this food here? My money bought it, slaves brought it, chefs cooked it and now it's here. Not by God's 'divine power' either."

Anna muttered something underneath her breath and reached for her glass, sipping the dark wine. Elsa, in turn, put hers down and focused her attention to Jon. "I want to pray. If you do not like it, then go someplace else. I am not forcing you-!"

She was cut off by him slamming his fist to the table. "We are doing nothing of the sort. Your fucking religion imposes upon myself!"

Her lip quivered and she hid her face behind her gloves.

"Go on, go ahead and cry. Go up to your room and sob like the little bitch you are-"

"I think that's quite enough," The Admiral interjected. He stood. "I'm going to escort the Queen upstairs, she seems to be quite upset." His hands rested on the back of her chair, waiting for her to agree.

Patiently, he waited for her to compose herself. She wiped off smearing makeup onto a cloth and left it on her plate. She refused to make eye contact with Jon and Silvia as she wrapped her hands around Admiral Westergård's arm as he escorted her out the room and up the stairs.

When she reached her room, she immediately fell in her seat at her desk to cry. "You can leave," She mumbled.

"Do you want me to bring you up some dinner?"

"My appetite is ruined," She replied. Her stomach churned uneasily, a mixture between hunger and disgust.

He paused. "Very well, your majesty. I'll see if I can have a maid come up to help you get ready for bed." The door shut with a click behind him, and she waited until she heard his footsteps die off to go lay down in her bed and cry loudly.

. . .

By the next morning, she felt refreshed. She yawned and stretched, hand touching the dried makeup on her face. She entered the bathroom to splash her face with water and then pat herself dry. Noticing her disheveled hair she let it down from it's bun and combed it out, windcing at the snarles. The door to her room opened softly while she was halfway through braiding her thick hair. She glanced out, wrapping a ribbon quickly to hold the end. The Admiral was sitting a plate on her desk, presumably with breakfast, and was now prying through her personal items.

She cleared her throat and he sat the picture of Jon back on her bedside table. "Sorry, was just curious as to why you kept it."

"That's my decision." She placed the photograph where it was supposed to go, by one of her parents and another of Anna. "Why are you still here?"

"I brought you up breakfast, seeing as you didn't come down."

She hesitated, looking down at the strawberries and hot cakes dusted in sugar. "Well, thank you, but I don't think that's your job."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He looks down to the picture of Jon again, as if contemplating throwing it against the wall. "And seeing as you are, I suppose I will go."

"It would be best," She agreed. He gave her a small encouraging smile and was halfway to the door when someone knocked and then entered, unfamiliar in the face.

He quickly saluted when he saw the Admiral, quickly followed by a messy bow to her when he caught sight. "Admiral Westergård, one of our men is sick."

"Who?"

"Uhm, Jack. He wasn't feeling well last night, but this morning he woke up vomiting and with chills. He was very warm to the touch."

"It's influenza," She interjected. "Some of my people were sick with it about a month ago. It'll clear up in about a week, until then just force fluids."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Alright, we'll stay docked until it passes, I don't want more men getting sick and it causing problems while we're at sea."

"Yes, sir," The main replied, saluting once more before quickly leaving as not to intrude. The door closed quickly behind him, and he was heard walking down the stairs.

The admiral stood for a moment, reconsidering his decision. "Alright, well, I suppose I really should go back out to my ship. It has been a, uhm, lovely stay, your majesty."

She sat down at her desk, twirling her braid around her finger. "You should stay until your men get better. In the castle, I mean. I wouldn't want you getting sick as well. Especially after showing nothing but kidness to myself and the people here."


	5. Chapter 5

By nine, she was bored. Anna had came to check on her once, feet skipping as she knocked on the door. An envelope was in her hand that she needed sealed with the wax Arendellian seal while she checked to make sure the blonde was feeling alright, intended to be sent to Benjamin.

After they did that, she sat bored with a stack of papers in front of her that demanded the attention that she didn't feel like giving. She'd let Jon deal with it for once, after all he was the King.

So she lounged around for a while, eventually getting dressed, discarding the worn one from the night before and wrestling to get her hair to stay nice and neat. Eventually she let it hang in a braid again and pushed the strands up and over her head, out of the way.

Glancing out of the window, she saw Admiral Westergård who was talking to one of the men at the docks. He was dressed partially in uniform. His thick coat was unbuttoned and hung open around him while he gestured and spoke. She waved to him when he looked up for a minute when the man he was talking to walked away to retrieve something.

He smiled and waved back.

A while later she plays with the flowers in a vase, twirling them between her gloved fingers. She focuses on the outside. The admiral had long since left the docks, so she watched her men go through each item of food that the Southern Isles had traded. She stopped when she heard a knock at the door.

"Enter," She said, walking around to sit at her desk and straightening the skirt of her dress. While she was expecting Anna or Jon or hell, even Silvia to enter, she was surprised to see Admiral Westergård come through the door.

"Hello."

"Admiral Westergård, I wasn't expecting to, uhm, well, see you."

"Well, I figured since we're docked for a few more days you'd like to go for a walk with me." He gave her a charming smile and extended his arm.

"I'm afraid I can't." She straightened up in her seat, and grabbed one of the papers in front of her. A letter from Corona. "Lots of work to do." She didn't bother to mention that she never intended to do it.

"Let Jon worry about it. He wants to be King so bad, let him realize what it takes."

She stayed silent a moment, pondering the decision and then stood up, straightening up the desk. "Alright, but only for a little bit. I do have a lot of work to do."

"I'm sure you do," He teased.

They walked out to the gardens, slowly making their way around as she dawdled to fawn over every rose. He eventually took one by it's stem and broke it off, thumbing off the prickles before he placed it in her hair.

She watched him walk around. For someone who supposedly grew up in poverty, he was rather well literate, spoke in nice even tones with thought into his words, and walked like he owned the place.

She mostly stayed quiet, letting him carry the conversation. "How long have you and Jon been married?"

It takes her a moment to realize he's referring to her. "Oh! Uhm, about five years. Let's see... since I was sixteen, so yes, five years."

"You've been married to him for five years?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked rather upset. "Please tell me last night was a one time thing."

"Well, I don't exactly spend a lot of time with him. As you can imagine he's not the best company," She replied softly, not wanting to utter a something bad about her husband, no matter how much she disliked him.

He tapped his chin, starting off into the sky so she didn't have to feel trapped under his gaze. "Well, he didn't leave a good impression upon me. Though, why do you put up with him?"

"Arendelle is ruled by a larger figure, Schwida, which Jon comes from. How I or my citizens feel about him does not matter, otherwise we'd be dessimated in a war we can't handle." She wiped something from her eye, pretending it was an eyelash while tears streamed. "I don't wish to talk about this, Admiral Westergård."

"Hans," He replied quickly. "Call me Hans." He looked back up towards the clouds. "Maybe we should go in, it looks like it might rain soon."

"It's a clear as crystal out here?"

Nevertheless he pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her. When she looked back out the window, it was starting to rain. "Wow," She said, mesmerized with the fat drops landing on the pane. "Thanks."

"It's no problem. It's getting quite close to noon, I assume you won't be taking lunch in the dining hall?"

"Correct. I have a lot of work, remember?" She asked. "Thank you, Hans, I had... fun spending time with you."

"Of course." He took her hand and gave it a quick kiss. Then he gave her a charming smile and a bow. "I'll see if I can get a maid to bring up lunch for you."

"My advisor, Kai, will take care of it," She replied, brushing hair behind her ear for something to do. She wasn't sure why she was, so she stopped, embarrassed. After he gave a nod of understanding, she walked back down to her study and sat.

She flipped through papers, dotted her signature on a few and began to read through some of them, but was exhausted. She didn't want to do it.

Finally, someone knocked on the door, presumably with lunch. "Come in, Kai."

Instead, Hans entered, carrying a tray with enough food for two or three. "Hi, thought I'd bring it up myself."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly eat all of that."

He looked down at everything he had brought. "Oh, well, good thing there's two of us."


	6. Chapter 6

Hans had somehow managed to gather up a plethora of foods, though she has no idea how as the chefs were rather protective of the kitchen, and they didn't just let anyone take the trays up to her. So she was a bit taken aback when he placed the platter down in front of them, filled with sandwiches, strawberries dusted in sugar powder, romaine and carrots, and potatoes cut in long strips and covered in friendly herbs, as well as melon drizzled in honey.

Even if Hans was eating their was no way they could eat everything. But apparently his intention wasn't for them to eatno everything, it was simply for choices. He brought over a chair and sat across from her and plucked up a sandwich from the banquet laid in front of them.

She didn't move for a second, but eventually she picked up one of the forks and speared a piece of fruit and popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly.

He smiled and bit into his sandwich, and swallowed a second later. "I see you like the cantaloupe," He remarked, stabbing a piece and taking a bite as well.

The remark was easy enough, but she still felt her stomach twist in knots over it. She was also distracted by the fact that for an admiral, he seemed to have rather proper manners. He used different utensils for each food, chewed thoroughly and only spoke in turn.

"It's alright. I prefer watermelon."

"I could go get some?" He offered, lips barely turning up to form a smile.

"That's quite alright, I'm content with what I have." She pulled the small bowl of strawberries closer to her and plucked up a small spoon to eat them with. They were a bit sour, but she presumed that's why the sugar coated them.

They continued without much further chatter, only occasionally him prompting her with a question about the foods or Arendelle in general.

The real distraction didn't happen until Anna burst into the room, hair braided wet down her back. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Me?" Elsa asked. "Why? You know I don't come down for meals."

"You and Hans have been up here all afternoon!"

"What is the problem? You do this everyday - go read a book or something it's not a big deal."

Anna gripped the wood frame, knuckles white. "The maids are talking," She hissed.

"About what?"

Her younger sister rolled her eyes and then slowly ticked a finger between Hans and the blonde. "I was trying to find you guys before Jon did."

"We're just _eating_," Elsa replied, exasperated.

"Jon doesn't know that!"

Elsa's hand closed tight around her fork, feeling the silver dig into the soft of her palm. "Why does Jon care anyways? He has _Silvia_" She hadn't meant to say Silvia's name as disgusted as she did, but it rolled off her tongue without a thought. It didn't matter anymore though, everyone knew that Silvia was the equivalent of one of the whores who wore their hair dark red and wore layers of lipstick, creeping around corners of buildings to snatch unsuspecting men.

Indignantly, however, she did not bother to correct herself. It was true, whether or not anyone actually confessed the truth, and she was sick of cowering in Jon's shadow of terror. She was the one who could manipulate ice, and yet she was the one so afraid of a fat man far past his prime.

"Elsa, please, I don't want him to _hurt_ you," Anna whined, clasping her sister's hand. "Let's go down to the library. He's looking for you and I don't want him finding you with Hans."

"Why does he care so much anyways?" Elsa asked, but stood anyways, letting her sister's shaking, clammy hands lead her down the hall. Her face, which usually shined bright in joy and pride now was gaunt and pale, lips creased in a flat line, eyebrows bent forward in concentration. She had never seen her younger sister so afraid and focused, and for a minute she realized just how serious it was and it scared her.

They ducked into the library, and Anna's breathing seemed to return to normal, looking around as if trying to distract herself. "Let's get a book, huh? What should we read?" Her fingers danced on a nearby bookshelf - 12th century literature.

"I was thinking maybe some tales," Elsa replied. As soon as the words escaped her, Anna rushed them over to the section and pulled out a large one, slamming it on the table. She opened it somewhere in the middle and sat the blonde down, forcing her to seat in the wooden chair in front of the book.

"See? All nice and cozy-" Anna stopped mid-sentence when the door opened on the other side of the room. She swallowed, eyes darting between them.

Jon stormed over to the two young woman, and ignoring his wife, addressed the auburn. "Where have you been hiding my wife?"

"I wasn't hiding her anywhere, she's been in here-" Anna gasped when his hand tangled into her hair and yanked backwards, forcing her to look up at him. "You're _drunk_."

"And you're a filthy little liar," Jon replied. "Where has Elsa been all afternoon?"

"In _here," _Anna insisted.

"You're lying," He said, and his hand slapped against her freckled face. Elsa, who had been quietly staying to the side, attempting to remain as small and silent as possible as to not draw the attention to herself, gasped when she saw him slap her sister.

"I was with Hans," Elsa said, standing. "And you're not going to bully my sister any longer, you brute."

"With _Hans," _He mocked, and grabbed her by the face. "You want a fucking baby so bad you'll whore yourself out to anyone that'll open your putrid legs?"

"No," She argued, but it only earned her a smack across her face. His hand twisted around her arm, twisting the muscles and bruising the skin. She let out a yelp, falling to her knees to whimper and whine for him to let her go.

"You're a useless _bitch_. I don't even know why I married you. You whore around and only pay attention when you want a _baby." _

"I don't want your baby, you're a horrible person. I wouldn't wish a baby to have to have _your _genes," She spat out, wishing the ice that used to plague her as a child could be used. But it only seemed to do so when she was scared sightless by nothing of importance.

She cried out when he kicked between her legs, foot slamming against her arched back. He kept muttering under his breath, kicking and bruising her until she her vision was blurry.

And then it his face was lost to her closed eyes.


End file.
